


Words they wished they had said

by smaragdbird



Series: Terror Rare Pair Week [27]
Category: 19th Century CE RPF, The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Banter, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tragedy, did I break up the shows two otps for the sake of historical accuracy?, this is more historically compliant than show compliant, yes you read that pairing right, you bet i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: Written for the Terror Rare Pair Week“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.” Those were the first words Harry Peglar had ever said to him.Over the years, it's becoming a theme.
Relationships: Harry Peglar/William Gibson
Series: Terror Rare Pair Week [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542748
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2019





	Words they wished they had said

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.” Those were the first words Harry Peglar had ever said to him while eying the food Billy had prepared with justified scepticism. 

Billy hadn’t enlisted as a cook but a clerical error had led to him becoming one for a few days until his actual cooking had led to him being re-rated as a ship’s boy.

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.” Peglar had whispered to him as they had made their way through a swamp to avoid open battle with the Portuguese slavers whose barracks they were supposed to destroy under the cover of darkness.

Peglar had taken him under his wing, joking that needed to keep an eye on the man who had tried to poison him within days of their acquaintance.

“You have memoirs?” Billy asked back because so far, he had taken it as a joke.

“I’ve seen things that would bleach the colour from your hair”, Peglar replied but Billy thought that he could hear him smile.

“Then why is your hair still dark?” He asked, which made Peglar laugh quietly, earning them both a reprimand from Lieutenant Williams.

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.” Peglar rasped as Billy visited him in the quarantine station in Comfort Cove, or Comfortless Cove as it was called by the men.

“Is it finished?” Billy asked as he brought Peglar some of the lukewarm tea they were all drinking here since the water was too brackish even for the most desperate men.

“Of course not, I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Peglar tried to smile but instead shivered violently despite the oppressive heat. “You shouldn’t be here, kid, it’s not safe.”

“I’m not a kid anymore”, Billy replied and showed him his certificate that proudly declared him to be an Ordinary Seaman.

“Congratulations Mr Gibson.”

“Thank you, Mr Peglar.”

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs”, Peglar said as they rowed towards the city of Chinkiang. They were to enforce the soldiers attacking the city. His first proper battle, not some clandestine assault on Portuguese slavers.

“What if I die first?” Billy asked. “Will you include me in them?”

“I will dedicate an entire chapter to your heroic demise”, Peglar promised him.

“Even if my demise is not heroic?”

“Especially if your demise is not heroic.”

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.” Peglar said which earned him a curious look from Lieutenant Hodgson, who was helping Billy to carry the wounded Peglar back to the ship.

“You wrote a memoir?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“Have you not, sir?” Peglar replied. There was blood matted all over his face but it was the gunshot to the side that worried Billy. Everyone knew head wounds bled a lot. But it was the hole in his side that had left him unable to walk unaided.

“I…no…I cannot say I have, Mr Peglar”, Hodgson replied. Billy liked him. He wasn’t quite as aloof as some of the other officers.

“It’s not finished though, is it?” Billy replied, remembering their conversation back in Comfort Cove.

“Maybe you’ll have to finish it for me.” Peglar cried out in pain and Billy and Hodgson heaved him over the boat’s side.

“I write poetry as well as I cook”, Billy said.

“Lieutenant Hodgson”, Peglar looked at him as if this was a matter of life and death. “No matter the circumstances, never eat Mr Gibson’s cooking. You will die.”

“You’re still alive”, Billy muttered under his breath.

“No thanks to you.”

Hodgson, who had been watching their banter, stepped back onto the beach. “Take him back safely, Mr Gibson.”

“Aye, aye, sir”, Billy saluted and pushed the boat into the surf.

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.”

Billy rolled his eyes as they climbed up the stairs to the room they were sharing. Thanks to Hodgson, Billy would be joining him and Harry on the Northwest Passage Expedition after all even if not as a seaman.

“No need for such a long face”, Harry said, correctly guessing the reason for his sour mood. “I’ll make sure you get plenty of experience on the way. And then in three years’ time you can re-enlist as an AB.”

“If I wanted to be a servant, I wouldn’t have joined the Navy”, Billy grumbled.

“At least you’re not the cook or this expedition would be doomed before we leave the Scottish Coast.”

“You’re not heling your case, Harry.” Billy glared at him when Harry only laughed.

After making sure the door was closed behind them, Harry drew him closer, giving him an indulgent smile. “It could be worse. If it wasn’t for Hodgson, we could be on different ends of the earth for the next year at least.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I’ve been right about you since the day we’ve met.”

“And I’ve been seething in loathing ever since, so much even that I’ following you to the Arctic. As a servant.”

“In that case, I loathe you, too”, Harry grinned.

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs”, Harry declared dramatically after being called for the next watch. 

“Don’t listen to him”, Mr Armitage said next to Billy and rolled his eyes. “Memoirs! It’s a collection of anecdotes and questionable poetry.”

“Have you read them?” Billy asked before Harry could open his mouth to protest about Armitage’s assessment of his poetry.

“I can’t read”, Armitage told him. “But back in Cumana Harry used to make them up on the spot and recite them. Until Mr Loar had enough and gave him that notebook so he could write them down instead of bothering us.”

“I am hurt, Thomas”, Harry told him. “Deeply hurt. Especially since I know you like my poetry.”

“No, I endure them”, Armitage corrected him. “That was the price I was paying for our friendship.”

“I like them”, Billy said. Harry had read out a few to him when they had still been on shore.

“Then I am sincerely glad you have found each other even if I worry for your mental health”, he told Billy. “Now excuse me, I have shirts to mend.”

“So do I actually”, Billy muttered. If he had wanted to sew for a living, he would’ve followed his father’s footsteps as a tailor.

“Aye, I need to go as well”, Harry said and got up.

“Be careful out there”, Billy said, remembering the polar bear attack on Gore’s group.

“Aren’t I always?”

/

“If I die, make sure they publish my memoirs.”

Harry whispered as Billy was holding his hand. There wasn’t much of an ‘if’ about it, he was too weak to walk and bruises covered his skin and he was bleeding from his mouth and hairline.

“You didn’t finish it”, Billy reminded him, almost choking on his words.

“You’ll have to do it for me.” Harry’s voice became weaker with every word, his closed.

He did not wake up again.

/

Every step hurt like thousands of glass shards embedded into his knees, his feet, his hands. Billy was clutching the wallet with Harry’s writing to his chest where it was safe inside his breast pocket.

He stumbled behind the others, who were too weak themselves to care if he kept up with them or not. But he had to. He had to get these papers back to England. He had promised Harry he would.

Billy stumbled and fell, crying out as the impact went like a shockwave through his body. He tried to get up but his arms weren’t strong enough and his legs hurt too much.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, a tear running over his cheek as he gave up, resting his face on the rocks, Harry’s memoirs safely tucked beneath him. “I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look before you stone me for breaking up Peglar/Bridgens, I must defend myself that I've been wanting to write this ever since stumbling on Glenn Stein's paper that the skeleton found with Peglar's papers may have been Gibson. I just loved the irony that this would break up the shows otp Peglar/Bridgens and my otp Hickey/Gibson.
> 
> Now you may stone me.


End file.
